


Sleepless Nights, Painful Awakenings

by YukiSetsu



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Curses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Langst, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, because that is what i thrive off of, protective voltron team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-05 03:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15855426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukiSetsu/pseuds/YukiSetsu
Summary: A potential alliance gone wrong lands Lance at the receiving end of a curse that makes him experience unbearable pain whenever he tries to sleep. Unfortunately, trying to shrug it off and deal with it on his own might bring consequences that become too heavy to bear.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello please accept this while i meager up the strength to finish up my WIP;;; wrote this for an event called Langst Palooza, so take the chance to check out the other great works people will be putting out!!
> 
> should be a total of 4 chapters, and i'll update it every friday until it's complete! ^^

Forging alliances usually went smoothly.

It tended to be a simple affair: make contact with a peaceful planet with the intent of bringing them under the protection of Voltron, and then go for a face-to-face meeting once they got approval to land. Some took more persuading than others, having faced the horrific realities of Galra strikes and the Empire's suffocating influence. But most of the time, they came around and things were resolved amicably, sometimes even with a celebration.

Lance found the planet of Xa'Qar nice. Kind of dreary and too warm at first glance, but he thought the tranquil and steady ambience was comforting. It reminded him of days where he napped on the beach back on Earth, the sun soaking warm rays in his skin and the waves crashing in his ears.

He glanced around at the looming tree-like plants that seemed to span the entirety of the area the team was passing through. The Xa'Qans had agreed to meeting for a possible alliance, and Allura had landed the Castle in the one open patch of land they could find closest to the small village the species resided in. The planet was like a big, warm jungle. Except all of the trees were as tall as redwood, and weird yellow ginkgo-looking leaves covered every inch of what would usually be bark.

“These things look like huge, fluffy French Fries,” Lance said, reaching out a hand to gingerly touch the leaves of another tree they passed.

“They are called Zensag.” The Xa'Qan replied. A guide had been waiting for the team at the landing point, calmly greeting them before guiding them down a path towards their civilization. “They grow even without direct care from us, but they provide much to our people. Their leaves are used with other ingredients for effective remedies, their wood helps us create our homes, and they bear fruit that can feed many.”

“They look incredible.” Allura chimed in politely, earning a small nod from the guide.

Lance hummed, lightly bumping shoulders with Hunk once in a while as they walked side-by-side down the path. Shiro, Keith, and Pidge were walking just ahead, but they trekked on silently, too exhausted for small talk. There had been a Galra raid in the middle of the night on a planet not too far from Xa'Qar and two other separate emergencies throughout the day before they'd finally come here in the evening for the alliance talk, leaving most of them running on—at most—5 hours of sleep. No one was really in the mood to expend any more unnecessary energy.

“We are here,” the guide announced, stopping in front of a large arch, a clear division between the end of the forest and the beginning of the Xa'Qan's home. The houses, needless to say, were... yellow. Turns out the wood of the Zensag were as bright as its leaves.

For some reason, the guide chose to wait until they all navigated to the small hut in the heart of the city to announce that the leader preferred to have small company during negotiations, resulting in just Allura and Shiro heading inside to talk. The rest of them were told that they could “explore the village as they wished”, but the guide hesitated for a moment before adding, “we advise that you disregard anything the witch doctor says should she approach you.” They ducked inside the hut before anyone could fully process the statement.

Lance had no idea what they meant, and quite frankly, the words sounded a bit worrying despite the calm and brief manner in which the warning was delivered. How were they supposed to even know who the witch doctor was, anyways? He doubted this planet held the same stereotypical interpretation of what a witch was imagined to look like back on Earth, with her green skin, pointed hat, and smoking cauldron. He leaned over to voice the question to the team, but found that everyone else had already dispersed. Pidge and Hunk were busy fawning over a snack offering of what looked like warm biscuits brought over by a young Xa'Qan, and Keith had opted to linger and keep watch near the leader's hut, so Lance headed over towards a pair of Xa'Qans that were quietly watching under the shade of another home.

“How are you?” He started brightly, keeping what he felt was an appropriate distance for a first encounter. “The name's Lance, also known as the incredible Blue Paladin of Voltron. But the pleasure's mine.”

The pair seemed to neither accept or reject his introduction, simply staring at him with their hazel eyes. All of them seemed to have the same eyes, he realized—piercing but accented against the dark brown of their skin. The only thing that distinguished them—asides from their outfits—were their ears, which looked like the equivalent of large, floppy dog ears that drooped down to brush against the top of their shoulders. The color of their ears seemed to differ with each Xa'Qan, even similar shades having a slightly different hue.

The extended silence had Lance shifting uncomfortably. “Uh, sorry. Was that rude?”

One of the Xa'Qans finally responded with a slight shake of their head, donning a small grin as their gray ears jostled with the movement. “It was not. We have just not met an outsider who acts as... familiarly as you.”

“Oh.” Lance smiled again, the tension in his shoulders receding. “Well, when it comes to making conversation, you can say I'm the best Paladin for the job. Love the planet, by the way. Very, uh, yellow and warm.”

The green-eared Xa'Qan straightened slightly, perking up at his words. “We take very good care of it, and it us. We let the trees grow and prosper throughout the days, and we work in the nights to harvest and collect wood.”

Lance tilted his head. “Wow, busy workers. When do you all sleep, then?”

It was the gray-eared Xa'Qan's turn to puff up their chest, a smug look on their face. “We do not need sleep to function. We are always awake.”

Lance blinked, not sure if he heard right. “You...don't sleep? At all?” His eyes widened at their nods, a smile growing on his own face. “You don't feel tired _ever_? That's insane! In a good way, I mean!”

“The most exhaustion we will feel is from overwork, but that is easily overcome by sitting for a short time and eating to regain energy.” The green-eared Xa'Qan was speaking animatedly, her eyes shining. “After so many tries, we can finally use every dobash possible to commit ourselves to prospering as a village.”

The question was already lodged in Lance's throat, and he couldn't stop himself from asking. “Wait, 'so many tries'? Does that mean your species wasn't born not needing sleep?”

The conversation reached a lull, neither of the Xa'Qan's scrambling to speak this time. They exchanged a quick glance before the gray-eared one cleared their throat. “You could say it was an...improvement. Our village gained the ability through the mixture of an herbal concoction and some...witchcraft.” Their face grew dark at the last word, and Lance had the nagging sense not to press further on the subject.

But before he could even find a topic to switch to, another voice rang out from the side, low and ragged. “Not witchcraft, but magic.” He glanced over to see a small hooded figure standing a good few feet away, their form hunched and obscuring their appearance completely. “Good magic, bad magic, stolen magic.”

One of the Xa'Qan let out a noise of disgust, and Lance looked to see them already inching away from the newcomer. They met Lance's gaze, giving him a curt nod before turning in the opposite direction. “We will be leaving now. Be well, Blue Paladin.” They left almost too quickly, heading towards the middle of the village where Hunk and the others still were.

Lance stared at their retreating figures, a bit dumbfounded before he blinked and turned back around to see if the figure was still there. They were, and even though their head was ducked, Lance felt like their eyes were trained solely on him. It was an uncomfortable sensation that crawled up his spine like spiders.

“Blue Paladin,” the figure croaked, as if they hadn't spoken properly in ages. “Blue. You are indeed blue. Come a little closer.”

He took a step forward reflexively before freezing, a bit of uncertainty tickling his chest. “Uh, are you... Are you the witch doctor?”

“I am no witch.” The form hissed, practically bristling under the large robe. “I am a doctor, yet they call me a witch. Even though they live this way due to me.”

_'Disregard anything the witch doctor says should she approach you', the guide had said._

Lance shifted his weight from side to side, not knowing how to exactly approach the situation. After a few seconds, he opted to smile, trying to look as friendly as he could. “Okay, doctor it is. I'm guessing you mean you were the one who helped them achieve this 'no sleep needed' thing?”

For a moment, the figure didn't respond. But then she straightened up, letting her hood fall back to reveal an aged face lined with wrinkles and black ears. Even with that appearance, Lance had a feeling that she was even older than she seemed. But what unsettled him the most was her expression. It was angry, haunted, bitter—a stark contrast from the peaceful and quiet vibe the other Xa'Qan's gave off.

“Yes. My biggest accomplishment, my biggest mistake.” She growled, creeping closer. Lance fought down the urge to back away, although he was ready to bolt for it if things got out of hand. “Do not trust this village. They took everything from me for themselves.” She was right in front of him now, her height just barely reaching up to his chest.

“Lance, whatcha doing over there?” Hunk's voice drifted in before he draped an arm over Lance's shoulders, happily oblivious. “Look, you gotta try this Zensag bread. I swear it tastes like oatmeal cookies.” His voice tapered off for a second, realizing Lance hadn't been alone. “Oh. Hello.”

Lance took the bread from Hunk's hand, choosing to save it for later. “Thanks, buddy. This is, uh, the village doctor? Hey, did you know that they don't—”

“What do you seek on this planet?” The Xa'Qan cut in, voice low.

The question threw both Lance and Hunk for a loop. Lance couldn't tell if that was supposed to be a trick question, or if she genuinely had no idea why they were here.

Hunk recovered first, a confused noise at the back of his throat. “Um, Voltron's alliance with this planet, I guess? I mean, the Princess and our leader are still in talks with your leader, but yeah.”

The witch-doctor's eyes flashed, an almost deadly look creeping across her face. “You wish to ally with this village? They will only take. Never give. Bad beings. If you negotiate with them, you are no better than they.”

Lance straightened up slightly, suddenly glad Hunk was there with him as support. “Look, I don't know what you have against the village, but Voltron just wants to provide protection for the planet should it ever come under threat by the Galra.” He could feel Hunk's hand still on his shoulder, the slight anxiety dancing off his fingertips. “We fight the bad guys, defend the universe, all that jazz.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, and her face twisted into one of raw anger. “You wish to protect them? Then you are even worse.” Her hand whipped out, reaching for Lance's wrist. “You will regret saying such vile words.”

Her fingers had barely brushed the top of his armor, and it should have been impossible for him to feel the fleeting contact at all. But he felt it, a slight twinge sparking across the area like a burst of static electricity, as if she'd touched his bare skin. It wasn't painful, but Lance jerked his arm back in surprise. Hunk jumped at the movement, already stepping backwards as he used his arm to drag Lance with him.

“Uh, I think I hear our teammates calling us.” Hunk laughed nervously, voice high. “We'll be leaving now.”

The witch-doctor said nothing as Hunk led Lance away, although the boiled anger in her gaze already spoke plenty. Lance finally forced himself to turn around, swallowing down the mild panic that had been rushing up his throat as they reached the front of the leader's hut again. Keith was still propped against the yellow home, arms crossed and a bored expression on his face. He raised an eyebrow when the two approached, but he said nothing as Hunk came to a stop, letting out a large sigh.

“That was... kinda creepy.”

Lance nodded, the spot on his armor that the Xa'Qan had touched feeling...oddly exposed, even though his armor was still fully covering what it should. He couldn't understand why she'd been so angry, but suddenly, this planet started feeling a bit more unpleasant than peaceful.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye before someone snatched at the bread that had still been lying in Lance's hand. He glanced over to catch Pidge shoving the last few bits into her mouth, a triumphant grin on her face.

“You snooze, you lose. Should've eaten it when you had the chance.” She sing-sang. Her smile faltered slightly when she caught Lance's expression. “Did something happen?”

A door opened before he could reply, and all eyes landed on Allura and Shiro as they made their way back out of the hut. Allura was smiling, but the strain in it was poorly hidden. Shiro hadn't even bothered, looking more than a bit disgruntled as he followed behind her. No Xa'Qan accompanied them out.

“Paladins,” Allura started, her voice excessively upbeat. “Let us head back to the Castle. We will debrief once we've taken off.”

From the looks of it, the talks clearly didn't go well. Everyone followed along silently, and Lance took a chance to see if the witch-doctor was still there as they headed back towards the forest. She wasn't.

By the time everyone had filed into the Castle, Allura had stopped looking cordial, a scowl on her face as she set the ship for a course back up into space. They were gathered on the bridge, standing awkwardly with Coran as they waited for a sort of explanation, one Shiro clearly wasn't tripping over himself to offer.

“So...” Hunk said slowly. “The alliance...?”

“Is not happening.” Allura answered flatly. “Our ideals and methods simply did not align, so it was bound to not reach fruition.” She turned around at the heavy silence, an apologetic smile on her face. “Do not be too down. Our goal is still the same. We will continue to expand Voltron's protection with planets that seek our help. We are not guaranteed to be accepted by all of them.”

“The Princess is right,” Coran piped up brightly. “We've all had a long day, I think we all deserve a good rest for now. Good work today, Paladins.”

The team mumbled in acknowledgment before they all headed towards the kitchen for some food. They'd been so busy that they'd barely eaten all day. But somehow, Lance somehow didn't feel that hungry. His mind kept flashing back to that witch-doctor, so resentful and overflowing with anger. His wrist tickled again, but he ignored it.

* * *

 

That night, Lance woke up to the worst pain he'd ever experienced in his life. It was like knives scraping at the insides of his body, the pain radiating throughout so violently it jolted him out of the slow tendrils of sleep in an instant. He pushed himself upright, practically tearing both the eye mask and headphones off and tossing them to the side in his panic. What was hell?

His head felt like it was threatening to split open any second, not helping the almost burning sensation that was dragging across the rest of his body. But as soon as it started, it seemed to ebb away, like a slow and receding tide. He doubted it at first, thinking that the pain was just so great it was numbing out his senses, but no, it was definitely going away. It didn't take more than 30 seconds before Lance was sitting in the dark with nothing but a cold sweat and slight shudders that ran down his skin with each heavy breath. His throat felt raw. Had he screamed? He couldn't remember.

Blue was fuzzy in his mind, her concern washing over him. He glanced down, placing a shaky hand against his chest where the pain had felt the greatest. Then checked under his shirt to make certain that he didn't actually have some sort of injury. There was nothing, and Lance was starting to think he just had some sort of crazily realistic nightmare. That had to be it—there was no other explanation.

His heart rate was still well above the norm by the time he'd retrieved his eye mask and Pidge's headphones (they hadn't broken, thankfully—Pidge would've killed him), and he opted for a few breathing exercises before he let himself lie back down.

The second time around, he woke up to the same excruciating pain almost immediately, and this time he didn't even have the energy to sit up and recover his senses. He pressed his face against the pillow, screaming into it as his hands gripped at the fabric so tightly it might have torn. But the same thing was happening. The moment his mind began to jolt awake and reorient itself, the pain was already beginning to fizzle out like a dying flame. Only when it seemed to have completely disappeared did he finally release his death grip on the pillow, rolling onto his side. The headphone pressed uncomfortably against his ear, and he took them off a bit more gently this time, placing them next to him as he removed the eye mask and blinked blearily at his darkened room.

Something was wrong. He had no idea what was going on. Was he sick? He felt fine now, though. Shaken up, but fine. He pushed himself upright again, pressing his hands gingerly against his stomach. Felt it rise with each unsteady breath he took. Why did he feel so normal now? All he could remember was waking up both times to—

He blinked. Now that he thought about it, the pain left nearly as soon as he woke up. As if it only seemed to trigger once he fell asleep. A shudder passed through his body, settling into an uneasy weight in his chest. That almost sounded like a curse...

An image of the witch-doctor flashed through his mind for a quick second, but he swallowed down the sudden panic. No, he was overthinking this. It sounded crazy. It _was_ crazy. Even still, his stomach lurched at the idea of trying to go to sleep again, of having to relive that sort of rude awakening a third time.

He didn't sleep that night, sitting against the wall of his bed as he thought about blue oceans and orange sunsets.

* * *

  _(Hour 28)_

* * *

 

All-nighters never came easy for Lance. Sleep was important—vital—both for healthy skin and a healthy mind. If given the chance, Lance avoided all-nighters like the plague. Usually, it never came to that extreme, and he always managed a few hours of sleep in between late night Galra attacks and distress calls from nearby planets. But as morning crept around, Lance wondered how Pidge managed all of her sleepless nights. His body felt particularly heavy as he slumped against the wall, wishing he could sink into his bed and be wrapped into a warm cocoon. It was so tempting, the idea of curling back under the blankets and drifting off, even though it was the completely wrong time to do so.

Lance sighed, pushing himself onto his feet as he rubbed at his eyes. The room's lights felt brighter than usual—he'd turned them on halfway through the night to keep himself awake—and he trudged to the bathroom with heavy steps.

What was wrong with him? He had no idea, and he had no idea how to explain to anyone if he tried to bring it up. He hurt whenever he tried to fall asleep? He didn't know how to describe it if anyone asked; the sensation felt too visceral in a way that words seemed to fall short of portraying it accurately. Maybe it was just a psychological thing. But how does he fix something like that?

He figured it might wear off. He hoped, at least. Then maybe later through the day, he'd be able to nap without any of his current worries. It sounded optimistic, almost _too_ optimistic, but Lance was desperate for anything that would help him get through the day. Hopefully they wouldn't have to do anything that required a lot of concentration—he could barely focus on one thing at a time.

After he'd gotten ready and headed down for breakfast, he wasn't surprised to see he was the last one to arrive. The others were already seated, in various stages of finishing their bowl while they shared idle chatter amongst themselves. Hunk was the first to catch his eye when he walked in, his smile slipping into something more concerned by the time Lance got close enough to slide into the seat next to him.

“Dude...” Hunk started hesitantly. “You look kinda...”

“Terrible?” Lance supplied, eyes shut as he slumped against the chair. “Worse for wear? Like a dried up plant?”

There was a small clatter, and Lance peeked an eye open to see Hunk grabbing a bowl that Shiro passed over the table before placing it in front of his seat. “Yeah, basically,” Hunk said, a slight grin on his face. “Trouble sleeping last night?”

The question brought back the current reality of his situation back with startling clarity, jerking Lance out of his drowsiness. He straightened up, grumbling as he reached for the bowl of space goo. “Don't get me started. I didn't sleep at all.”

Across the table, Pidge made a slight noise, almost surprised. “You pulled an all-nighter? That's new.” She'd already finished her bowl, one hand propping her head up as she stared at him lazily. One look was enough for him to tell that she didn't get much sleep, either. Although that was probably out of poor life choices, not whatever he was dealing with. “What were you doing up?”

Lance picked at his bowl, his appetite failing to rouse him enough to eat. He could hardly remember last night, his memory a blur of bright lights and hazy thoughts. It was exhausting just to try and recall the past few hours, so he gave up, opting to focus on the weird texture of the food in his bowl as he mixed the spoon around. It was gross, but it kept him awake.

“Uh, hello?” Hunk's voice suddenly cut in, and Lance startled at the hand waving in front of his eyes. “Earth to Lance? Don't tell me you fell asleep.”

Lance blinked, looking up to see the rest of the table had quieted down, all staring at him after Hunk's question. He felt the heat rising to his face, shaking his head as he sat up, the spoon all but abandoned in his bowl. “I didn't, I was just... thinking. I probably just had trouble sleeping because I wasn't feeling that great last night.”

Hunk's brow furrowed, eyes scanning even more closely. “Maybe you're sick?” He raised a hand towards Lance's forehead. “Do you have a fever?”

Lance batted the hand away, clicking his tongue. “I'm _fine_. No fever. Not sick. Nada. Don't mind me.”

“We will be training around one varga after we finish eating and preparing,” Allura said, watching him carefully. “Are you sure you will be alright?”

Just the thought of having to train had his body groan with exhaustion, but Lance forced himself to nod, a tight smile on his face. “Don't worry, Princess. Nothing I can't handle. Appreciate the concern, though.”

He was glad no one pressed much further, although Lance grew acutely aware of the subtle glances people threw his way, as if they were expecting him to fall asleep in his food. Not a far off possibility, but Lance wasn't going to let that happen. The last thing he needed was to wake up screaming in the middle of breakfast and freak everyone out. So Lance ignored the fatigue pressing at the back of his eyes, shoveling down a few spoonfuls of food at Hunk's insistence.

He'd deal with it after training.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: there's a trigger warning for self-harm in this chapter. no major injuries, but feel free to skip those parts if you don't like to read them!
> 
> to avoid the actual scene, skip from "He reached forward again..." until the end of the paragraph that starts with "After three rounds..."

Lance might have underestimated how tired he was. Even when he mentally prepared himself for training, his body couldn't compensate. Just lifting his feet to move around and dodge drone shots was exhausting him, the sheer combination of having to focus and calculate his next action turning his brain into an incoherent mess. Natural reflex was the only thing that was letting him take down some of his targets, but most of his shots were off—even he could tell. He could barely fend for himself, much less cover for Keith and Shiro, who were dealing with their own simulated drones at his back.

But as Lance forced himself to focus his bayard on the next closest drone, it disappeared. Lance blinked, hearing the familiar sound of the training simulation ending as he straightened up, his legs burning with exhaustion. He looked up towards where Allura and Coran was stationed, ready to ask what the problem was, but a hand on his shoulder caught his attention. Shiro was looking at him, the look on his face almost strained. Sweat had already started to bead the leader's forehead as he fought to steady his breaths, and Lance vaguely wondered how long the simulation had been going on for. He couldn't remember.

“Lance,” Shiro's voice was careful, even. He squeezed Lance's shoulder gently. “Are you feeling okay?”

Lance had expected the question, but he still frowned nonetheless. “I'm fine.” He wiped at his forehead, his arm feeling like a bag of sand. “Just... Just give me a few minutes. I know I was a little off my game just now.”

Keith snorted, and Shiro gave him a quick look before he glanced back at Lance. “I think you should head back and rest a little bit. You're exhausted.”

Lance was already shaking his head before Shiro had a chance to continue. “I'm _fine_ , I said. A few minutes is all I need and—” The tiniest onset of a headache pressed between his eyes, interrupting his protests as he shut his eyes and blew out a long breath.

“Dude, I know exhaustion when I see it,” Pidge called out from where she stood with Hunk against the wall. “You look like you're about to keel over.”

“Just go get a few hours of sleep.” Hunk added. “You can train more later in the evening if you're feeling better.”

Lance didn't know why he felt so frustrated—he tugged his shoulder away, stumbling a bit when Shiro's grip fell away easier than he'd anticipated. “I don't wanna sleep,” he mumbled. It sounded ridiculous. He _knew_ he sounded ridiculous. It was obvious the others were thinking the exact same thing, everyone staring at him with varying degrees of disbelief and confusion. He floundered for an explanation, unable to find the words to accurately explain just what was going on.

“For some reason, my... I hurt all over whenever I go to sleep.”

There was a long silence, and Lance suddenly regretted saying anything at all. That had probably been the most simplistic way to describe it, but they wouldn't get what he meant. How was he supposed to word it? The sensation felt too visceral, too internal to describe properly.

Hunk was the first one to speak, tilting his head just slightly. “So... You mean you're sore? Like your body hurts when you try to lay down?”

Lance shook his head, biting down a sigh. This was a waste of time. “No, it's not that. It goes away when I wake up.”

Shiro was still watching him, never having taken his eyes off in the first place, his expression almost a vague look of understanding. Or at least _trying_ to understand. “Do you think it could be nightmares?” Shiro finally said, gentle in his approach. “Maybe it just feels like you're in physical pain when you wake up. That's why it goes away once you do. A mind thing.” He took his free hand and pointed it at his temple. “I've had something similar before.”

Was it just nightmares? Lance didn't know anymore. He knew nightmares, knew how his were like. None of them had ever felt like this. It might be psychological like Shiro said, but it also seemed to transcend that boundary into something... worse.

He was just tired. He wanted to go sleep. More than anything, he wanted to rest. The need tugged at his eyelids, ready to let him take a nap right there on the training room floor, but he just barely pushed it aside. Should he head back to his room and try again? Thinking back to the pain he'd drowned in before, it almost didn't seem worth the risk.

“Lance? Lance.” Shiro's voice filtered in, and Lance shook out of his daze when he felt a hand gently shake at his shoulder. Shiro was still there, still in front. The others had crowded a bit closer, and Lance caught Allura and Coran peering somewhere off at the back. When had they come down?

“You okay?” Shiro asked again, eyes scanning. “Can you hear me?”

Lance blinked, his mind struggling to start back up again. How long had he zoned out for? He was wasting everyone's time. “Uh, yeah.” He said, forcing himself to nod for good measure. “I'll go try and take a nap, actually. Maybe you're right—it's just in my head.”

The tension in the room seemed to drop, and Lance caught the way everyone's shoulders relaxed in their relief. Shiro nodded, a satisfied smile on his face as he gave Lance one last pat on the shoulder. “Sounds good. We can come wake you later for dinner. Did you want one of us to walk you back?”

“Nah, I'm good.” Lance's own voice sounded dull in his ears. How weird. “Thanks.”

Lance didn't remember the walk back to his room, but by the time he managed to reorient himself, he was standing next to his bed. He didn't bother to question it, though, too exhausted to care at this point as he let himself flop onto the bed with a sigh. The bed felt softer than he'd ever imagined it, the blankets almost velvety against his face. Before he could even realize that he hadn't even washed up or changed out of his clothes, his eyes fell shut.

* * *

 

It almost felt like seconds later when Lance woke again, a strangled cry ripping its way from his throat. The shock of it all had him jerk upright in bed, his body slipping on the sheets and sending him tumbling to the ground. He could barely register the way his knees burned from the impact, his hand busy clawing at his chest. It felt like his insides were being torn apart, each fibre stretching until they had no choice but to snap.

But it was fading again, just as it always did. Like the whispering remnants of a nightmare that left one last mark before retreating back to its own realm. Lance stayed kneeling on the ground, his breaths a loud and scratchy noise against his eardrums. It hurt to move. He was _scared_ to move. Even when all he could feel was the frantic thuds of his heartbeat underneath his chest, the sweat dripping down his neck, the sheer terror of something he couldn't even see, he didn't move.

Something clogged up in Lance's throat then, a mass of fear and confusion that threatened to override his very senses. His breaths shuddered through his chest, a nauseating sensation, uneven and difficult. His vision had started to blur, and only when Lance reached up to rub at them did he realize he was crying. The tears kept falling, his mind too frazzled to even try and regulate his emotions.

This couldn't be because of nightmares. Lance _wished_ they were just nightmares. At least then he could put a name to his problem, figure out a way to better explain it to someone. But he had no idea what was happening. He didn't have the energy to even try and guess what was happening.

After a few seconds, Lance finally slumped back against the side of his bed, too exhausted to try and crawl back under the covers. He wanted to sleep. He didn't want to sleep. A sob choked its way out of his mouth, followed by another, and another. It wouldn't stop, even he wanted to try. So Lance sat there, letting his head fall back against the mattress, crying out his confusion, his fear, his hopelessness.

He felt like he was going crazy.

* * *

  _(Hour 34)_

* * *

 

Lance didn't sleep after that. How could he? No matter how tempting it was, he didn't think he could handle the consequences. He didn't remember much of what he did, only starting to shift from where he sat on the floor when his body started to truly ache from the stiffness. He struggled to his feet, grabbing for the edge of his bed when he felt his legs start to sway. How much time had passed?

His hand tingled where it sank into the mattress, his mind reflexively craving the thought of lying down and resting. He wanted to sleep. For a long time.

Maybe he could take a little nap.

Just a short one and—

Lance jerked his hand away, stumbling a few steps backwards at the force of his movement. No, he _wouldn't_ sleep. Not if he could help it. He didn't want to. Never.

But his bed was so close—

“I'm not sleeping.” Lance whispered, eyes desperately looking at anywhere but his bed. He eyed the door to his bathroom, and before he knew it, his legs were dragging him inside and in front of the sink. He didn't hesitate to turn the water on to the coldest setting, taking a handful and splashing his face with it. It startled his mind awake, even if just briefly, and Lance was thankful for it. His vision seemed to clear enough for him to get a good look at his face, and—even though he'd expected it—was somewhat startled at the sight. His eyes were barely open, almost completely masked by dark circles that stood out drastically against his dried out face. His hair was a mess, and Lance could only manage running his hand through his hair a few times before giving up. He was too tired to deal with this right now. The sound of running water caught his attention again, and Lance went for a few more splashes, thankful for the slight reprieve. Maybe he'd just sit in the shower under cold water later on. That might help. It seemed like a good idea.

But it wasn't enough right now. He needed to stay away from his bed. He needed to stay awake. As quickly as the water did the trick to reorient himself, the effect wore off just as fast. He needed something better, something more lasting. He couldn't stay in his room. Not with his bed so close.

The next thing he knew, he was standing in the kitchen, one hand digging through a drawer. When had he gotten there? What was he even looking for? His fingers closed against something and he pulled it out without a second thought, eyes focusing in on the small knife.

Oh.

For a moment, his mind seemed to short-circuit, almost thrown off by the object in his hand. Had that been what he was looking for? But why? To hurt himself? He'd never even considered doing something like that before. Not even now, in his desperation, did it sound like a good idea. He set the knife against the table carefully, eyes running across the smooth blade before they landed on the tip, sharp and glinting. Before he realized it, his fingers were brushing against the hilt of the knife once more, a fuzzy thought flitting at the back of his mind.

Maybe...

Something heavy pulled at his eyelids, and Lance savored the darkness for a fleeting moment before his head jerked forward, the motion startling himself back upright. The sensation chased away any drowsiness and left him steeping in a sense of rising panic. He needed to do something, stay moving, stay _awake_. Any idle moment tempted his brain into taking another nap, and he wouldn't let it happen.

His eyes fell onto the knife again, the consideration becoming a bit more tangible amid his muddled senses.

If it's just a little...

He reached forward again, one hand grasping at the hilt of the knife as the other hovered just above the tip. Just a little bit. Just to stay awake. One finger pressed against the tip, and Lance took a slight breath before he pressed down slightly, feeling the metal dig into his skin. A little harder, and a sudden jolt of pain had him pull his finger away with a hiss, eyeing the spot of blood that had started to pool there. He blinked, pondering the sensation. It kept him awake, even if it wasn't for too long. It was better than the cold water. He grabbed for a cloth, wiping his finger off with a sigh. Maybe he could just... alternate pricking fingers for a bit. And if his body started to get used to the little bursts of pain, he could push a little deeper. But not too much—Lance knew his limits.

He thought he did, at least.

So he stood there, idly poking at his fingers with the tip of the knife, wiping the blood off on the cloth every once in a while. It was probably a disturbing sight, but Lance didn't have the luxury to care about that. As long as no one walked in on him, he should be fine. How long had he been here, anyways? It couldn't have been long. Had the others already had dinner? How late was it? He should probably check around and see where everyone was a little later, just to see. Walking around would probably keep him awake, too. For now, he'd occupy himself with this.

After three rounds on each fingertip, Lance could start to feel his body get used to the stinging sensation. Each prick grew more and more numb, less startling and more of a dull feeling against his hands. His mind no longer grew alarmed when the tip broke the surface of his skin, and he felt the familiar heaviness coating the back of his eyelids.

Lance shook his head hard, breath shuddering as he set the knife down and tried to keep his eyes open. He was so tired. It wasn't enough anymore. He needed something more again. The surface of the table seemed to swirl, even though no patterns donned the plain white surface. His hands stung with something, a need to keep pricking, keep doing _something_ to distract his brain from the idea of heading back to his room or just falling asleep on the spot.

“Stay awake,” Lance mumbled under his breath, his mind feeling too drained to comprehend anything more than simple terms. “Don't sleep. I'm not tired.” His hands tingled again, and although he didn't know why, he appreciated the mild stimulation. Maybe he just needed to talk to himself, convince himself he didn't need to fall asleep.

Lance shut his eyes for a just a second before opening them back up again, focusing all his attention on the wall in front of him. But just staring brought that nagging sense of drowsiness. It prodded at his mind almost discreetly, barely tangible until it overtook him with a need to sleep in a huge wave. His body felt heavy, as if the air itself had grown dense, dragging at his limbs and urging him to relax and lie down.

“No,” He repeated, a bit more firmly this time. “I won't.”

“Lance?”

The voice was almost drowned out, like someone had gone and stuffed Lance's ears with cotton, so quiet he almost passed it off as a hallucination. Someone was calling him. Lance blinked, the realization dawning on him slowly, almost too slow. He finally forced himself to turn around, catching Keith standing just a few feet away. His expression looked weird.

And then it hit Lance. Of course it looked weird—he was standing in the middle of the kitchen by himself, a knife and bloodied cloth sitting on the table in front of him. He probably looked insane. For a moment, he had no idea what to say, words failing to structure themselves properly in his head. How was he going to explain this?

He couldn't.

Could he?

“Keith.” Lance's throat felt too dry.

Keith took another step forward, movements almost deliberately slow. As if trying not to startle him. Lance didn't budge, confused the more he watched Keith's expression. Why did he look so panicked?

“Lance,” Keith repeated, hands raised. “Put the knife down.”

The words threw Lance for a loop, taking their time before they sunk in. Knife? He'd set it down on the table, hadn't he? But when he glanced down, his eyes widened when he spotted the knife was indeed back in his hand, one hand wrapped around the blade itself in a tight grip. The stinging sensation he'd been feeling intensified the longer he looked at the metal digging into his skin, a thin stream of blood quietly dripping down onto the table.

As quickly as he'd realized it, Lance let go of the knife, hearing it clatter onto the table as he hissed in a breath. What the hell had he been doing? The wound on his hand seemed to bleed a bit faster now that the knife was gone, his hand burning at the change in position.

There was movement next to him, and Lance saw another hand grab at the used cloth and press it against his injury. Lance grimaced at the pressure, trying to jerk his hand away, but Keith held fast, using his other hand to keep Lance's wrist still. It was a silent affair, one that Lance didn't dare break himself. He could practically feel the panic and confusion rolling off of Keith in waves, and he wasn't sure how to address it. At the very least, he was as awake as he could be at the moment.

Keith shifted then, releasing his grip off of Lance's wrist and guiding Lance's free hand to hold the cloth against the wound himself. He straightened up, staring at Lance intently, as if he could get all the answers himself if he looked hard enough. But he couldn't, and after a long moment, he reached out, grabbing at the crook of Lance's elbow and gently pulling him along instead.

“Woah, woah,” Lance started, trying—and failing—to dig his heels in. “Where are we—”

“We're going to the med bay.” Keith said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And then you're going to explain what the hell is going on.”

Lance's head was spinning, be it from blood loss or just exhaustion. Most likely both. “It—it was an accident, I swear. I didn't mean to go that far—”

Keith stopped, so abruptly that Lance nearly crashed into him mid-sentence. He turned around, the look in his eyes almost withering. “'That far'? So you were planning on hurting yourself 'just a little'? Do you hear yourself right now?”

Lance chose not to answer that one, knowing the truth wouldn't make things any better. His chest hurt, straining for breath like they'd been walking miles, not a few hundred feet. He was so tired. Too tired. Physically, mentally, he was done.

Someone—Keith—shook at his shoulder, and Lance watched him lean forward, the anger in his eyes melting into one of disbelief. “You... Have you slept since you left the training deck this morning?”

A shudder ran through Lance's body, and he squeezed at the cloth in his hand, mildly glad for the painful sensation. “I... I _told_ you, I can't...” His legs were nearing their limit, too weakened to support his weight for much longer. “It hurts too much...”

Keith looked lost, trying to grab at a reasonable explanation. “The nightmares? Like what Shiro said? They're that bad?”

“They're not nightmares.” Lance choked out, managing a weak shove at Keith's grip in an attempt to get them moving again. He needed to sit down soon. “I don't know what it is, but it's not nightmares.”

Keith seemed to get the hint, starting to take a few steps forward again, although he looked completely worried now, his eyes never leaving Lance. “Okay, okay... We'll figure this out. Let's just get to the med bay and—Hey!” Lance hadn't meant to stumble, but his legs seemed to give out for a second, and Keith had to scramble to grab him by the shoulder.

“Sorry, 'm fine...” Lance mumbled, fighting to keep his eyes open. The struggle to stay awake was becoming an impossible task, and that fact alone terrified him. What would happen once he became too exhausted to even wake up? His stomach lurched at the thought, a feeling that left him too nauseated to keep moving again.

He heard Keith curse under his breath, mumbling something that Lance couldn't really make out. Something pulled at his arms, maneuvering his limbs almost hastily. Lance didn't bother resisting, too worn out to even focus on anything anymore. His mind felt like static—fuzzy and distorted, too much happening at once for him to process.

Maybe he could just close his eyes for a second. Just rest them a little.

That proved to be a bad idea, and Lance barely managed to catch himself before dozing off, sheer desperation the only anchor that kept him from tipping over the edge. He didn't want to sleep. Not again. Not right now. A headache had definitely started to form, the pressure starting to push even more insistently behind his eyes in a steady rhythm. It was enough to draw a low groan from him, the sound weak and hardly audible. Even so, he heard Keith say something, his words low and muffled. His body felt light, like it was floating, and Lance appreciated the fact that he didn't need to move. It was all too tiresome.

All of a sudden, the room around him seemed to get brighter, and Lance reflexively ducked his head to avoid it. The air felt colder too—they must be in a different room now. Keith set him down, letting him sit at the edge of a table while Lance fought to blink off the whiteness crowding the edges of his vision. It only belatedly sunk in that Keith had ended up carrying him all the way to the med bay, but that sort of embarrassment was the least of Lance's worries.

“Lance, you there?”

Someone was calling him, but it wasn't Keith. People were talking. Lots of people actually, and Lance had to fight to clear his vision, blinking away the blurred haze. He was surprised to see Shiro standing in front of him, the others huddled just behind. When had they gotten here? When did Keith even contact them?

“Shiro?” Lance finally managed, his voice barely a whisper.

Shiro nodded, his expression tight. “Yeah. What's going on?”

Just the thought of it brought the fear crashing back down, and Lance had to swallow down another bout of nausea. He'd almost forgotten what had happened. What he'd done, what Keith had seen. This probably looked terrible.

“Shiro, he's injured,” Keith piped up, somewhere out of Lance's range of vision. “Explanations aside, he needs—”

“Wait, injured?” Hunk was suddenly there, unceremoniously pushing way to the front of the group until he took Shiro's place. Before Lance could even speak, Hunk's eyes already zeroed in on his hand, grabbing at it and pulling the cloth aside. Some of the blood had dried against the cloth, and the sudden detachment had his wound protesting angrily, and Lance grimaced at the sting. Hunk sucked in a harsh breath, the sound almost buried by the resounding gasps from the others. “Lance, _what did you do_?”

Lance tried to tug his hand away, hide the evidence, but Hunk held fast. All of a sudden, he felt too exposed, his senses too acutely aware of the stares directed at him. His exhaustion was put on the back burner, and right now, all Lance wanted to do was leave. He wanted to get away, try and forget this ever happened. Everything was spiraling out his control, like sand slipping between his fingers each time he tried to gather the particles back into his hands. It was terrible, the sensation of being so helpless.

“I can't sleep, Hunk.” Lance stammered, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I needed to stay awake, I'm sorry, I—” His throat caught on something, a warmth tracking down his face as he struggled to catch his breath.

Hunk was quick to react, reaching out a sleeve to wipe at Lance's face, his own tears starting to form. Lance let him, more surprised by the fact that he even had the energy to cry.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know it was this bad. We'll fix this, 'kay?” Hunk murmured, low enough only for Lance to hear. “We're going to help you. We'll figure out what's happening.”

“Hunk,” Keith cut in, almost impatient. “He needs a pod. It wasn't a lot, but he still lost blood. And he's barely conscious.”

Hunk nodded, and Lance felt his body seize up with panic when he saw his friend go to move him. He pulled back with as much strength he could muster, his head spinning at the sudden burst of effort. He swayed, nearly falling onto his back before someone grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him forward against something soft. He could smell Hunk's shampoo, and although it was usually a relaxing scent, it was the worst thing for him right now. Relaxing meant he'd fall asleep, and he couldn't have that.

“N-no pod,” Lance spoke before anyone could even react to his near fall. “Don't put me in one, please.” He couldn't sleep. He wouldn't sleep.

“Lance, you need to rest.” Pidge's voice filtered in, sounding just as desperate. “You're not thinking straight right now.”

_Maybe the pod would be different._

But was it worth the risk? Would he feel it in the pod, being in an immersed sleep? What if something went wrong? What if the pain came, and the pod didn't even notice? Would he be stuck in there until the pod ran its cycle, trapped in a never-ending barrage of agony until his physical wounds healed? Too many questions, too little time.

Lance felt someone pick him up, tugging him against their chest, and he scrambled to push against Shiro's shoulders when he saw them heading towards the pods. He couldn't do it, he couldn't.

“Shiro, wait,” Lance choked out, his arms already burning from exhaustion at the slight action. “My hand's fine, I swear. I don't need a—”

Shiro stopped in his trek, glancing down with a torn expression. It was a rare look to see Shiro so conflicted, but there was still that familiar sense of determination in his eyes, something that always reassured Lance whenever he saw it. Even now, in his confused state of panic, it felt comforting to see.

“Just for a little bit, Lance.” Shiro said, voice gentle even as Lance shook his head hard. “We'll stop the cycle if we see anything wrong, I promise. I'll watch your vitals the entire time. We won't leave. We just want to see if it'll help with whatever's hurting you.”

Lance listened, chest heaving as he considered Shiro's words. It was so tempting, and the simultaneous want and rejection left him horribly confused. He was tired of it all.

Maybe it would be different with the others here, watching over him.

He took in a breath, feeling it rattle in his chest. Maybe it would be fine. Maybe a pod was all he needed to treat this. He squeezed at his hand, letting the sharp pain jolt his senses awake for a brief second. Shiro answered in kind, carefully squeezing where he held onto Lance's shoulder, waiting for a response. He was glad they weren't at least forcing him into the pod, and gave him a chance to agree.

“You... You won't leave?” Lance asked, shrinking at the way his voice trembled.

Shiro smiled, and it loosened something in Lance's chest. Just a bit. “Never. We'll all stay here as long as it takes.”

And after a heavy moment, Lance nodded. They didn't bother changing him into the med suit, opting to just slide his hoodie off before Shiro and Hunk helped him up into the pod. Lance never thought standing on his own would be such a challenge, but he felt so _weak_ , so drained of doing anything at all by himself. And as he heard the pod start up, Lance forced himself to shove down the immediate panic that greeted him the moment he realized he was going to sleep.

The others were here. They'd be watching.

A familiar cold crept up his limbs, numbing out his senses, and Lance closed his eyes as his vision went black once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lately i've been sleeping 12+ hours on my weekends off and i wake up still feeling exhausted and i'm just >:( 
> 
> sleep is a scam y'all


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to those who sent kind words regarding last week's hiatus T__T 
> 
> apologies for how short the chapter is though :'(

Keith watched the fragile show of reassurance shatter the moment the pod started up. Most of them—Hunk at the forefront—immediately turned towards him for answers, demanding an explanation to the scene they'd walked in on when Keith called them all to the med bay. Shiro was the only one who didn't budge, his feet planted in front of the pod as he pulled up a panel that read Lance's vitals. He wanted to go join and look at the readings, but Hunk was busy grabbing at his arms, talking a mile a minute.

“Tell me what happened.” Hunk pressed, his grip desperate. “How'd you find him? Where was he? Did he tell you anything else?”

“I don't know.” It was an honest answer, but Keith still squirmed under the group's unsatisfied expressions. “I mean, I don't know _enough_. I just stopped by the kitchen after I trained on my own to get some water and found Lance standing there. He had the knife in his hand, and...” Keith trailed off, the image still fresh behind his eyes. “I brought him here to get treated.”

Allura spoke up before anyone could start off on another tangent of questions, her eyes darting between Keith and the pod. She probably looked the most confused out of them all. “But why? What could possibly be keeping him up to that extent?”

“He said they weren't nightmares,” Keith added, directing his words at Shiro, even though the leader was still staring intently at the pod readings. He saw the way Shiro's shoulders stiffened, though, so he knew he was listening. “That was all I got out of him.”

Hunk stayed silent, the anger in his eyes slipping into one of defeat. Keith knew better than to feel wronged at Hunk's look; the anger hadn't been directed at him, but more towards the whole situation. Anger at not knowing what he could do to help one of his closest friends.

No one knew what to do.

Pidge stepped a bit closer, giving Keith's wrist a squeeze. It was meant to be reassuring, but Keith felt anything but. “So you're saying they're not nightmares.” She started carefully, and Keith could practically hear the gears starting to turn in her head, trying to put together the pieces of an impossible puzzle that was missing half its frame. “So it's some kind of physical thing that's forcing him to stay awake? He did say that he hurt every time he fell asleep.”

Hunk blew out a sigh, finally straightening up as his grip fell off of Keith's arms. “But that doesn't make _sense_.” He said, brow furrowed. “He wasn't injured before... what happened just now, was he? If it's bad enough that he needs to grab at a knife to stay awake, we're missing something big here. What do we—”

“ _Coran_.”

Shiro's voice cut through the conversation, the urgency in his tone enough to stifle any lingering words. Keith was already moving towards Shiro, the others close at his heels, something tight prodding at his chest. Coran had already been the closest, and he was there looking over Shiro's shoulder by the time Keith got close enough to see what was happening. But even if he couldn't get a good look at the panel the both of them were staring at, the shrill beeping of an alarm was enough to tell him something was terribly wrong.

“What?” Coran muttered, his voice barely audible over the incessant noise. “I've never seen...”

“We need to stop the cycle,” Shiro said briskly, reaching for the panel and punching at a few buttons.

Keith strained to take a look at the screen, only getting a glimpse of some red numbers before Hunk's shoulder obscured his vision. His eyes immediately went towards the pod itself, something bitter lodged in his throat. Lance was still inside, his tired form still suspended in cryosleep. He didn't look any different from when the pod started up, which made it all the more distressing. Had it not been for the ear-piercing alarm or Shiro's vigilance over the readings, no one would have even been able to tell something was wrong.

 _He just looks like he's sleeping_ , Keith thought, even as the arguments around him grew louder. He wished that had been the case.

“What's going on?!” Hunk yelled, ignoring the panel completely and moving straight for the pod, one hand urgently pressed against the glass as if he planned to reach in and pull Lance out himself.

“Something's wrong,” was all Shiro said, stepping aside with a grunt as he let Coran handle the mechanisms of the panel. “His vitals spiked all of a sudden.”

Pidge nudged her way forward until she was next to Coran, gazing at the numbers in dismay. “We need to get him out. The pod's doing him more harm than good right now.”

Each added comment only ratcheted up the tension in the room, the air so thick with panic that it almost seemed to choke him. How terribly ironic, for a healing pod to hurt rather than help its patient. To add insult to injury, all he could do was stand there amidst the chaos, at a loss for what to do. There was nothing, no target for him to dash towards and strike down in his fury. He had no object or being to blame for causing his teammate's suffering and, therefore, no opportunity for him to obtain a cure. He wanted Lance out and safe. He wanted that stupid alarm to be quiet. He hated the sound.

Keith was completely out of his element.

Coran didn't argue at Pidge's words, pressing at a few more buttons before Keith heard the alarm die down as the pod door hissed open. Hunk was ready when Lance stumbled out, catching him before he bent down, letting them both kneel on the ground. Everyone had already gathered around the pair, eyes wide and breaths bated.

Lance woke up relatively quickly—or maybe he hadn't slept at all. He was trembling violently, harsh wheezes straining his frame, and Keith was pretty sure most of it wasn't from the cold. Hunk was quick to wrap his arms around Lance's body in an attempt to warm him up, rubbing large circles across his back.

“Lance, can you hear me?” Hunk's voice was abnormally loud in the absence of the shrieking siren that had blasted Keith's ears just moments ago. It seemed to echo off the walls, intensified amongst the sudden silence of the group. “You're out. You're out of the pod. Talk to me.”

“I c-can't sleep.” Lance whimpered, his voice almost shrill. He buried his face against Hunk's sweater, hands gripping at the fabric so hard it might tear. “I _felt it_. The moment I knew I was falling asleep, it came back. And I couldn't move, I couldn't wake up.” When Lance's voice broke at the last few words before he choked off into a sob, Keith almost felt like he was going to be sick.

He took it back. This sound was worse than any alarm.

Hunk looked up at the others, a particularly helpless look in his eyes. He had no idea clue on to do. Hell, no one did. But before anyone could offer any different ideas, or even some words of comfort—as futile as they might have sounded—something steeled in Hunk's expression, and Keith could only raise his eyebrows in surprise before Hunk looked down again.

“Listen to me,” Hunk had whispered the words, yet the words carried far enough for the group to hear. He shifted his grip, holding Lance by the shoulders now. “Lance, _listen_.”

Lance barely managed to respond, his gaze disoriented until they registered his friend just in front, and even then his panic only seemed to subside by a minute amount. He still looked seconds away from another panic attack, looking like he had no idea where he was, or what had happened. That in itself was unsettling, to say the least.

Hunk was undeterred, the grim determination etched on his face like it had never left in the first place. “We're gonna fix this. No matter what. I'm not gonna sleep until you can too.”

But Lance was already shaking his head, tears retracing the paths marked down his cheeks. It was a terrible sight, watching someone usually so upbeat look so broken down. Keith was quite certain he never wanted to see something like this again.

“You can't, you can't,” Lance mumbled, almost sounding delirious. “I don't know what this is, no one does—”

“Then we'll figure it out.” Hunk pressed. He got to his feet, cutting Lance off and helping them both up. “Stand up, we need to keep moving. It'll help you stay awake.” He leaned in then, close enough that Lance jerked back a bit at the sudden proximity. “Take some deep breaths for me, buddy. We're all here, and I'm sure we have enough brainpower to get to the bottom of this. You just focus on staying awake.”

Thankfully, Lance listened, giving a shaky nod before he ducked his head, hands clutched tightly at the front of his shirt. Each inhale and exhale was no less wobbly than the last, but it was a start. Hunk watched for a few seconds before he nodded, satisfied. He kept an arm around Lance's shoulder, a safeguard in case the other couldn't even maintain his own weight. Only then did Hunk finally turn his attention back towards the others, mild uncertainty lurking on his face.

“So...” Hunk said, blowing out a long breath. “Ideas?”

It was Shiro who spoke, a slight strain to his voice now. “For now, we help keep Lance awake. If the pods don't help, then we don't have many other options...” He trailed off, brows furrowing before a thought seemed to hit him. “Lance.” He gave a small grin when Lance responded, sluggishly raising his head after he let out another deep exhale. Everyone was trying their damned hardest to look as reassuring and confident in front of Lance as they could, from what Keith could tell. “Do you remember when this started? This pain-when-sleeping thing?”

Lance stared, almost in a daze, before he shook his head slowly. “I don't... remember. It feels like forever.”

“When did Lance mention pulling that all-nighter?” Pidge asked, finger tapping incessantly against her crossed arm. Keith could almost see the timeline orienting itself in her head. “He seemed fine before that morning, from what I remember.”

“Almost two quintents ago, I think.” Shiro mumbled, a concentrated expression on his face. “So that's around...”

“After our visit to the planet Xa'Qar.” Coran added stiffly. He'd pulled out his tablet, busy swiping through some files with a frown on his face. “But it seems that the Castle didn't detect any abnormalities on the planet prior to landing.” He glanced up from his readings. “Did anyone encounter anything strange during your time there?”

Allura and Shiro shook their heads; they'd been too busy caught up in negotiations to even see much of the planet. Keith hadn't seen anything off either, having stood near the leader's hut for the entirety of the negotiation period. He hadn't been interested in mingling with the citizens like Lance and others had. The planet itself was very tranquil, and the Xa'Qans didn't seem to prefer initiating conversation first, asides from the younglings. It had been so uneventful that Keith could hardly remember much of their visit in the first place.

He remembered the trees. He remembered the tough exterior of the hut against his back while he waited for the negotiations to end, his own form of exhaustion leaving him too worn out to waste energy on things that weren't urgent. He remembered Pidge and Hunk wandering off in one direction while Lance went in another, yet by the end, it was Lance and Hunk who returned together.

Both of them had seemed...

It hit him then, so sudden it was like an electric shock. Keith blinked, the memory now a vivid scene behind his eyes, filling him with a grim certainty. It had to be it. There was no other explanation. It was the only detail he could latch onto, the only thing that seemed to offer _some_ foundation for them to work off of. His eyes immediately sought out Hunk, who caught his stare almost in an instant. 

“You and Lance.” Keith blurted, making a wild motion with his hands. “Towards the end, you two came back all... weird. You even mentioned something being creepy.”

In the second it took to take in the statement, Hunk's expression flickered from confusion to surprise to horror, and Keith knew he'd gotten somewhere. But the look on Hunk's face was as if he'd seen a ghost, and suddenly, Keith wasn't sure if he wanted to hear what happened.

“Hunk.” Shiro stepped in, alarm creeping into his tone. “Explain. Now.”

It took a few seconds for Hunk to react, as if Keith's words had put some pieces of the impossible puzzle together in his head. He shook his head, almost in disbelief. “I... I almost forgot that happened,” Hunk whispered, a sudden pallor to his face. “There was this... What did they call her? Witch doctor?”

Pidge straightened up at that, a surprised noise escaping her mouth. “You guys actually met her? I thought the guide just said that to mess with us.”

Hunk shook his head. “She's real. And real creepy. She was so... angry about something.” She glanced over where Allura stood, a hesitant look on his face. “She didn't like that we were trying to form an alliance with Xa'Qar”.

Allura's brow furrowed at that, but she nodded, encouraging him to continue. There was a stiffness to her posture that appeared ever since they'd brought up Xa'Qar, and Keith could only wonder what went on during those negotiations. Nothing good, clearly.

“She was saying how we were bad people for wanting to protect them and stuff...” Hunk trailed off, his eyes widening before he went for Lance's hand. “She reached for his wrist. I don't know if she actually touched him, but it scared the quiznak out of both of us. I dragged him away before anything else happened.”

Lance had been quiet the entire exchange, staring blankly at the ground, only jumping when Hunk grabbed at his hand. He blinked a few times, as if just realizing where he was before he went still again, staring off at something only he could see. Keith hated the sight. It was so... off, so unlike Lance.

Hunk was vying for Lance's attention again, jostling him just a bit to shake him out of his trance. It took a few seconds before Lance actually managed to focus himself again, drowsily turning his head towards his friend. Every aspect of his actions seemed slow, like he didn't even have to energy to go faster than that.

“Lance, I know it might be hard to recall things right now, but just try, okay?” Hunk said, a tight smile on his face. “Remember that planet we visited? Xa'Qar? The one with those French Fry trees.” There a long moment before Lance nodded, a slight tilt of his head. Hunk nodded with him, encouraging. “Do you remember that one Xa'Qan we met? The one you said was the village doctor or something?”

Lance took a bit longer to answer that one, but then he nodded again, and Keith could swear he saw some light creeping back into the guy's eyes.

“Remember when she reached for you?” Hunk asked. Another nod. “Did anything happen? I couldn't tell if she actually reached you before you pulled away.”

A shudder ran through Lance's body at that, realization dawning slow on his expression. It was almost a mirror reflection of how Hunk reacted when Keith had brought the memory up in the first place. If anything, Lance started to look more coherent, his mind struggling to wake itself up and as it fought to retrace its memories.

“She... She shocked me,” Lance whispered, voice unsteady. “I felt it, even over my armor.” His breathing started to pick up its pace again, and he jerked his hand out of Hunk's hold, fingers crumpling at the fabric of his shirt. “Is that what this is? She—she did something, and now I'm—” He tapered off, ducking over as the need for oxygen took priority over his ability to speak.

Hunk scrambled to console him, bending down to straighten him back up. Everyone moved the instant Lance started to panic, but no one dared get too close for fear of overcrowding him. Keith bit back a curse, fingers digging into his palms as he forced himself to stay still. They were so close, _so close_ to finally getting somewhere, and he wanted nothing more to jump into Red and fly to Xa'Qan himself for some answers. Uninvited or not, he wanted this to be over.

There was movement in the corner of his eye, and Keith caught Allura walk past him, bringing her to a stop just in front of Lance. She waited, letting Hunk help Lance calm down through back rubs and whispers once more. It wasn't as effective as last time, though, and Lance was still far off from a consolable state, the pure mental exhaustion pairing a bad combination with the sudden shock. They weren't even sure if it was the right answer. For all they knew, it could just be a terrible coincidence. But somehow, it didn't feel like it was. Keith didn't know how long Allura was willing to wait, but he was ticks away from parting from the group and heading towards Red's hangar himself. The sooner the better. They didn't have time to hypothesize anymore.

Luckily, Allura seemed to share his sentiments.

In one fluid motion, she reached forward, carefully grabbing at Lance's face with her hands, leaning in so close that their foreheads almost brushed. It was an action that left everyone stunned; even Hunk had angled himself away in an instinctive move to provide comfortable space between them.

Lance, clearly, was the most thrown off by the gesture, stiffening as he tried to pull away. Allura didn't budge, waiting until she knew she had Lance's attention before she reclined back, just a bit. If her plan had been to calm Lance down, it did the trick; the shock factor had been enough to leave him frozen, eyes wide and body tense with confusion. His breaths, which had been harsh and ragged, now left him in short puffs, body straining to adjust to the wild emotional rollercoaster it was being whipped through.

Allura listened until Lance's breathing evened out a bit more before she nodded, satisfied. “We will fix this. I swear it.” She paused for a moment, although it didn't seem like she was waiting for a response. Lance probably wouldn't have been able to respond anyways, still looking like he was processing the situation.

“You're incredibly strong, Lance. Do not forget that.” Allura said, her voice firm in its belief. Only then did she finally step back, lowering her arms and turning towards the rest of the group. Before anyone could speak, she was walking away, conviction in her steps as she looked towards Keith and the others.

“I trust you all will take care of Lance.” She said, grinning when they all nodded, the residues of their surprise having worn off. She headed for the med bay doors, a clear destination in mind as she walked. “Come, Coran. We set course for Xa'Qar immediately.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> platonic friendships among protective team members are underrated and i demand more everywhere

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is yuki-setsu if anyone would like to come yell at me to be productive :')


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